


Epiphany

by Minxie



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: BDSM universe fic, M/M, SCI-FI Big Bang 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes months, but John finally has an epiphany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta Readers/Cheerleaders/Prereaders:** @shinyredrain, @leela_cat, @aislinntlc, @thraceadams, @starting2fade. ♥ you all like whoa!  
>  **Artist:** The always wonderful and totally unparalleled, qafmaniac!! ♥♥♥ You can find all of her ridiculously awesome media on **[DW](http://qafmaniac.dreamwidth.org/281273.html) | [LJ](http://qafmaniac.livejournal.com/215547.html) | [IJ](http://qafmaniac.insanejournal.com/293048.html)**. Be sure and leave her some love!!!  
>  **Warnings/Enticements:**  
>  * The idea of a totally bisexual, BDSM universe was spawned, for me, by [Xanthe](http://bdsm-universe.livejournal.com/profile). I am playing in this sandbox with her permission.  
> * While the BDSM content is not graphic in this fic, if you are squicked by/disagree with BDSM practices and lifestyle please hit the back button now because this story isn't for you. I will not apologize for it nor will I engage in debates over it.  
> * Outside of the BDSM 'verse setting, this is canon through The Siege, Part Three of SGA then takes a hard left turn and marches on from there, flitting in and out of SGA canon at my whimsy.  
> * [GateWorld](http://www.gateworld.net/index.shtml) and their episode transcripts make my cold, bitchy heart happy and I have shamelessly taken advantage of them.  
> * Written for @aislinntlc for a winning auction bid. Late Minxie is late in completing the task. /o\

  


Drumming his fingers against his thigh, John Sheppard watches Lt. Col. Cameron Mitchell doctor his coffee, debating if he should motion Mitchell over to his table or not. He's going to have to man up soon and give the man a most sincere thank you.

If it wasn't for Mitchell, John would still be under the mountain hoping for a chance to step through the 'gate again. He damn sure wouldn't be on the Daedalus heading back to Atlantis.

He'd been relieved of his command, but he was going home. Back to the City of the Ancients, to Pegasus Galaxy. It's definitely more than he'd expected and, from the scuttlebutt in the mountain, it's all because Mitchell went to bat for him without even knowing him.

Thank you is the least he owes Mitchell. A case of beer would probably be appropriate too.

"Sheppard," Mitchell says, breaking John away from his thoughts. Mitchell motions to the empty seat. "Mind if I…"

"Not at all, sir," John replies.

Blue eyes dance with amusement. "Sir? How 'bout Cam when the situation allows for it? Mitchell, if it makes you feel better."

John cants his head. "John, then. Or, you know, Sheppard if it makes you feel better."

He sits quietly until Cam – and it is too damn easy to think of his CO by his first name – is settled, coffee and pie in front of him, tray taking up space at the next table over. When Cam starts forking off pieces of apple pie, says, "I hear it's because of you I'm going back."

Cam's shoulders roll in an easy shrug. "I hear you're one helluva pilot and have a grudge against the wraith. Sounds like a good combination, given the circumstances."

"I've also got a jacket full of things like disobedient and willful and disrespectful." John takes a slow sip of his coffee. "Not exactly what most COs want."

"There's a lot of stuff about rescue missions, securing Atlantis against hostiles, and killing wraith in that jacket too."

Snorting, John bites back a sarcastic retort. No reason to piss his CO off before he even gets to see Atlantis again. 

"Look, John," Cam says, one hand tapping lightly against John's arm. "You're a staple in Pegasus. Leaving you behind on Earth would have been ridiculously stupid. It would've cost us allies and pushed us back to square one. You're an asset to this mission, to anyone running this mission."

John shakes his head and looks away. Mitchell sounds like he means it. Like he honestly _wants_ John in his command. Flushing, he can't help but ask, "Black mark and all the write-ups included?"

"I've read your file. Sounds like there was a lack of trust all the way around," Cam replies. "You didn't trust your COs, and they didn't trust you. Makes for neither one of you working at full potential."

With no intention of telling Cam how close to the truth he is, because, yeah, there was an extreme lack of trust all the way around, John asks, "And you trust me?" 

"I trust that you will protect Atlantis. The rest of it will come. I've always thought good soldiers are worth the time and effort." Cam looks down at his coffee cup, then, unblinking, back at John. "I think _you're_ worth the effort."

The light flush on John's cheeks grows into a full-blown blush.

Voice dropping an octave, Cam says, "Pretty, John. Very pretty."

The heat of the blush grows, burning down John's neck and chest. Ducking his head, he opens his mouth and then snaps it shut; he's at a complete loss for words. He's saved from the moment – _the embarrassment_ – when McKay's voice flares loud in his ear.

_Major, we have a problem._

Tapping the earpiece, John replies, "We're on our way, Rodney."

*

Problem is an understatement. A wraith virus hell bent on taking over the Daedalus is not a _problem_. Not by a long shot. John plans on telling McKay that as soon as he's beamed out of this wayward 302. Loudly, with as much arm flailing as he can get in. 

_John._ Cam's voice comes through the radio, soft and controlled. It soothes the rough edge of John's nerves. _There's a slight hitch to the plan. McKay's having to do a work around._

"Okay," John replies, curling his fingers in tight against his thigh.

 _Just breathe, John._ Cam's voice deepens. _I'm not letting you go yet._

John's eyes widen. The small idea from earlier, the one that said Cameron Mitchell was flirting with him, is back. He's not sure what he wants to do with it.

Before John can reply, Cam's talking again. _John?_

"Sir?"

_McKay is locking onto your radio signal, we'll have you back here in just a few minutes._

"Sounds like a plan," John murmurs. "I'm still in range, right?"

John hears the click of a disconnect and knows that someone, most likely McKay, just looped him out of the conversation. It's not a good sign. He closes his eyes and sighs. 

_Not gonna lie to you, you're right on the edge. But McKay is confident it'll work._

"Better do it then," John says, squeezing his eyes shut. "Gotta let Rodney prove how smart he is, right?"

Cam's chuckle echoes through the comm feed. The low growling noise settles heavy and hot in John's cock.

_Alright, in three… two…_

John rematerializes and, flexing his fingers, drawls, "Rodney. The virus was on my three-oh-two."

McKay bounces on the balls of his feet and says, "We didn't anticipate that, Major."

"Of course not," John mutters. "Any thing else we aren't anticipating it to do?"

Mitchell steps in front of McKay, effectively ending John's rant before it really gets started. "Okay there, John?"

"Yeah. Yes, sir," John replies. "Two arms, ten fingers." John drops his gaze down the front of his body. "I'll… um, I'll check the rest later."

Cam flashes a grin – full of a devilish promise – and one eyebrow wings high. John's pretty sure he's just opened the door for some kind of comment that'll set Caldwell's teeth to grinding. The embarrassment will totally be worth that.

"Ready to get back to work?" Elizabeth asks from across the command deck.

"We're in McKay's area now, ma'am," John says, biting down on his reflexive smirk. "My version of computer repair is to turn it off and reboot." 

With another one of those rumbling chuckles, Cam says, "That's actually McKay's plan too."

"Wow," John says, slipping off his helmet. "We really are desperate."

"Gentlemen," Caldwell snaps. "I'd like to get my ship back now."

"Of course, Colonel," Mitchell returns. "Doctor, Major? Shall we?"

*

John takes a spot as far from Hermiod as he can get. When Cam gives him a look, John says, "The naked thing…"

"It takes some getting used to," Cam replies.

Tension builds as the systems shut down and the Daedalus goes dark. Drifting through wraith territory in an unarmed ship is almost as bad as watching the hives advance towards Atlantis. John is itching to bark out commands. The steady sound of Cam's breathing comforts John more than he's willing to admit.

"You know, you proved my point out there," Cam says as soon as the lights come back up.

"What point?" He's not fishing for compliments; John's truly confused. 

"You know what you're doing in that pilot's seat and keep your head under pressure." Cam steps in close to John. "You'll be an asset under my command."

Beneath the long sleeves of his jacket, goosebumps break across John's arms. Cameron Mitchell is a force of nature; blowing into John's life like a tornado and uprooting everything from their perfect little compartments. "Are you flirting with me, Colonel?"

"For the second time, it's Cam," Cam chastises. "And if you have to ask, it's either been too long for you or I am completely off my game."

Amused, John snorts. Then, without thinking, he blurts, "I doubt you've been off your game since you figured your dynamic out."

"It's not gone," Rodney mutters. "Everything was functioning normally and…" 

If McKay keeps interrupting, John is going to have to bake him cookies or something. His timing has been near on perfect for pulling John out of situations with his new commanding officer. John doesn't know what he's going to do when McKay has a lab full of minions to abuse and isn't around to unwittingly cockblock for him.

Stepping around Cam, John says, "Rodney? Come on, talk to me."

"It's not gone, Major," Rodney says, enunciating each word slowly. "What else do you want me to say?"

John's lips quirk. "Anything about how to _really_ make the virus go away would be good."

"It found somewhere to hide during the reboot, somewhere not connected to the mainframe." Then Rodney stops talking and snaps his fingers. "It's in the…"

"The three-oh-twos," John finishes. Another thought hits him and he adds, " _All_ of the three-oh-twos."

"The rogue…"

John nods at Elizabeth and says, "Yeah. The one I was beamed out of too." Grabbing Rodney's wrist, John starts heading towards the door. "Come on, McKay, let's get to the flight bay. Hermiod?"

"I will wait for your go ahead for the next shut down, Major."

*

By the time it's all over and the runaway 302 is blown to fragmented bits, John is on edge. In a perfect world, he'd find his Dom and ask – _beg_ – to be taken down, to spend just a little bit of time out of his head. But he hasn't lived in a perfect world for years. 

Right now he'll take a few hours off the clock and some time that he can claim as his own. It'll have to be enough.

"John?"

Cam's voice pulls John away from his thoughts. "Sir?"

"Come on," Cam says, hand clasping around the back of John's neck. Cam taps his radio once and says, "Major Sheppard is off the grid until we drop into Atlantis' orbit. Refer all Atlantis military personnel to Major Lorne. He'll find me if I'm needed."

"What…" John stops walking, tries to pull free from Cam's grasp. The fingers along his neck don't budge at all. It's more reassuring than John would like to admit. "Where are we going?"

"My room. I have a connected bath and a pair of sweats that should fit you."

"Colonel." When Cam's hand tightens, John amends it to, "Sir…" and then, when Cam's grip goes tighter still, "Cam."

"I like the way that sounds, John." Cam whispers. "I think you should keep using it. Especially since I know for a fact formality on Atlantis is a lot more lax than on Earth."

John bites back the sigh. He _needs_ the distance formality brings. Especially right now, when he's feeling so damned broken, so exposed to begin with.

"So," Cam says, "my room?"

"Not that I don't appreciate the offer but…"

"No sex, no games. Just time for you to rest." Cam's thumb brushes through the short hairs along John's neck. "When's the last time you were seriously able to rest?"

John lets his eyes flutter shut and takes what Cam is offering. Slow seconds tick off the clock – _one … two… six…_ – and then, blinking, says, "Just to rest?"

"Rest, dinner. Talking if you want." Cam's lips curl into a grin. "I'm an all-American country boy, John. I like flirting and courting before I talk someone into my bed. Especially if that someone is worth the effort."

A shiver of pure _want_ races through John. Swallowing back the desire, he says, "I would love time to rest."

"Good man," Cam murmurs, squeezing John's neck gently, then leading him through the corridor and to his room.

*

The hiss of the door sliding shut brings on a bout of nerves and second-guessing. This suddenly seems like the worst idea ever. "Look, maybe this was…"

John shuts up when a pair of sweats hit him square in the chest.

"Tuna can sized shower is through there," Cam says, pointing. "Anything specific you want me to talk the mess into?"

"Um, no," John replies, frozen in place. Cam may have promised no sex, no games, but the man is oozing control and John is caught in a loop of flight or fight or surrender. He doesn't know which he honestly wants to do more but the desire to run, to hide from all of the possibilities, is pulling ahead in the race. 

He listens as Cam calls up Major Lorne on the radio, asking that something simple, something like sandwiches and fruit for two, be brought to his quarters.

"John, did something happen when you were out there with McKay?" Cam asks, stepping in close and resting one hand on John's arm. "Do you need to go to medical?"

Shaking his head, John mutters another, "Um, no. Beckett scanned us in the flight bay."

"Shower, John," Cam says, hand dropping from John's arm to land a soft tap against John's ass. "Now."

Giving over to his natural instinct, John obeys, crossing the few feet to the tiny bathroom. The shower is small, barely big enough for John to turn around. But the rush of hot water feels fantastic, easing the knots out of his shoulders and streaming over his back and chest. 

Minutes later, John emerges cursing like a sailor, the sweats clinging to his wet skin. He blushes when Cam looks up from his book and says, "You're getting the floor wet, John."

Rubbing his elbow, John mutters, "The bathroom is _very_ small."

Laughing, Cam pushes off the bed and points to the table. He grabs a towel from his locker and says, "Sit."

John drops into a chair and, when Cam blots the towel over his wet shoulders and then up through his hair, sighs. "It's almost worth using the communal showers. At least there's enough room to turn around in them."

"Yeah," Cam says, reaching over John's shoulders and dragging the towel over John's chest. "I've bypassed the privacy more than once on this trip."

When John is simply damp instead of sopping wet, Cam drops the towel around John's neck and says, "I'll be out in five. Can you hold out that long for dinner?"

"Yeah, not even really hungry," John says, fingers drumming nervously over his thigh. "Maybe I should just head back to my quarters, grab something from the mess on my way…"

"John," Cam says, tone soft and even.

"Or, you know, I'll just wait until morning, for breakfast…"

"John," Cam repeats, stepping closer to John.

"Yeah, yeah. Breakfast and then I can just report in for duty, no reason to keep me out of the rotation. Lorne has enough to do without adding my shit…"

"John," Cam murmurs, hand going around the back of John's neck and tugging until John's face is tight against his chest and the words are ghosting over John's ear. "Enough."

Breaths ragged and coming fast, John leans into the embrace, a hot rush of shame burning through him. "Jesus. Sorry about the meltdown."

Cam's weight shifts against John. It's followed immediately by the telltale grind of wood against steel. When the room falls into silence again, Cam pulls John away from his chest and, with a gentle push down, says, "Kneel."

John eyes the sub bench – standard in every officer's quarters – and frowns. "Cam?"

"Kneel," Cam says again, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

John sinks slowly to his knees, adjusting the spread of his legs until he settles comfortably against the covered padding of the bench.

"Pretty," Cam murmurs, trailing his fingers over John's jaw. "I'll be out in five minutes and then we'll eat. I'll keep the door open, John. Need anything, just give me a shout."

Eyes closed, John focuses on tracking Cam through his sounds. The spray of the shower, the rattle of the towel bar. The thump of clothes into the hamper and the near silent footfalls as Cam draws closer again.

A light touch on his shoulder and John opens his eyes. 

"You want to stay here or," Cam looks over his shoulder, "join me at the table?"

John blinks once and then, swallowing, says, "Table, please."

He grabs onto the hand Cam holds out and rolls easily to his feet. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Cam replies, leading John to the table and pulling a chair out for him. "Sandwiches and fruit. Okay?"

"Yeah, yes." With a shaking hand, John reaches out and grabs his fork. He drops it back down immediately. He's shot, gone on just the _taste_ that Cam has given him. "Jesus."

Sliding his chair over to John's side, Cam breaks a piece off the sandwich and holds it out for John. He watches while John chews and swallows and then, before he holds out another bite, asks, "That long?"

"A couple of months before McMurdo," John whispers, embarrassed. It sounds worse when he says it out loud. "Not much available while I was doing milk runs in the Antarctic, then there was Atlantis."

Cam spears a piece of melon and pushes it against John's lips, then takes one for himself. After he swallows, Cam says, "Atlantis wasn't all go, no quit. There was down time and I know there are more than a few unattached Doms out there." 

"True," John admits, before accepting another bite of their supper. "But I had a base full of Marines side-eyeing me over the way everything shook loose with Sumner."

"The same Marines that flooded Landry with requests to remain under _your_ command?" Cam snorts around a mouthful of water. "Talk to me, John."

Shrugging, John says, "It took a while to reach that level of mutual respect. Standard had been set by then."

Pushing the second water bottle towards John, Cam hums. "I can buy that. It'd make for a tense situation in the beginning, hard to overcome that. What about the scientists?"

John drains half the bottle and responds, "They all think McKay has designs. No one is brave enough to cross him."

"Does he?"

"At one time, maybe." John recaps his water bottle and sets it to the side. "Rodney and I need different things. So, yeah, if he did, he doesn't anymore."

Tapping John's lips with a strawberry, Cam says, "If that's the case, I'm impressed that you two are still such close friends."

"We've had our moments," John says, licking the juice from the strawberry off of his lips.

Chuckling, Cam says, "Most friends do." Cam stacks the empty plates. "I'm gonna put these outside the door. Go warm up the bed, yeah?"

"You don't have to do this," John says, standing and walking towards the bed. 

After the door closes, Cam says, "Lorne will have someone by in a minute to pick those up."

"Cam," John sighs, sliding between the sheets. "Really, you don't…"

"John," Cam whispers, bussing his lips over John's forehead. "I rarely do something I don't want to. Now, scoot over and hush."

Grabbing the paperback book, Cam sits with his back against the wall and motions John closer. "Get comfortable. I'm going to read for a while."

John slinks in close to Cam, edging in bit-by-bit until his head is nestled on Cam's thigh, resting against the worn cotton of sleep pants covering warm muscle. 

Fingers start carding through John's hair and, when he truly goes lax, Cam starts reading. "In the audience, among the thrill seekers and press hyenas, was Alex Cross. He listened to his former friend's empty threats. And yet he couldn't help hoping that ADX Florence was as secure as it was supposed to be."

Between one word and the next, John drops off to sleep.

*

John wakes up slow, rested and relaxed in a way he can't remember. He's also pinned to the mattress in a tangle of arms and legs, the heavy weight of Cam pushing in along his back and ass. The heat of another body pressed against him feels good and safe, like there's another layer of protection wrapped around him, holding the outside world at bay.

The man had kept his word the night before. John has to give him that much. Falling asleep with Cam's voice droning on in the background, his fingers scratching lightly over John's scalp had been exactly what John had needed.

"Awake?"

It's one word, but, like everything else the man does, it reeks of his dynamic. Cameron Mitchell is a Dom to his very core. It's an attractive temptation. One that John isn't sure he can resist for very long.

Eyes closed, John asks, "Gonna kick me out if I am?"

A huff of laughter dances over John's neck. "Nope. My plans are more along the lines of courting you and collaring you."

John goes tense. "Collaring?"

"Not before you're ready for it, but, yeah, collaring." Lips pull across one of John's shoulders. "Unless you push me off, I'm going to own you, John Sheppard."

John takes a series of deep breaths, trying to slow his spiking heartbeat.

_Owned._

The word echoes between the static rasps of his breaths. 

"Easy," Cam whispers, the wide press of his hand rubbing over John's stomach. "I'm not going to deny what I want. You intrigue me, I like you. I want to get to know you better. But nothing is going to happen unless you want it too."

Nodding, John breathes in a slow meter until he settles again.

It's not the fact that Cam wants to collar him that's upsetting John. It's that, without really knowing the man, John would _let_ him, would welcome it even. One night of being taken care of and his defenses are completely shot to shit. 

"Okay now?"

"Yeah, yeah," John says. "How long 'til we reach Atlantis?"

"Six hours," Cam responds. "Plenty of time for breakfast, maybe a little conversation."

Right on cue, John's stomach grumbles. "Apparently I can get behind that idea."

Laughing, Cam rolls away from John. "Better put something on then. I don't think I can talk Lorne into delivering breakfast, at least not without a whole lot of razzing."

"Mess?"

"Meet me there in ten?" Cam asks, eyebrow arching.

"Yeah," John says, fighting the ridiculous urge to blush. "If I get there first, I'll grab us a table."

*

It's closer to fifteen minutes before John walks through the doors of the mess. Cam is already at a table, two plates of food sitting in front of him. John bites down on a smile and tells himself not to get used to it, that Cam's interest will wane after they hit Atlantis. There're jumpers full of better behaved subs on the city and John's willing to lay money that all of them would kneel for Cam Mitchell.

"Sorry, Lorne caught me out in the hall with questions," John says, sliding into the chair across from Cam.

"I know," Cam replies. "He radioed me after, telling me that he's the one that held you up."

One eyebrow wings high and John drawls, "Okay."

Shrugging, Cam says, "He knows you spent the night with me."

John's other brow disappears beneath his hair.

"I'm the one who pulled you off rotation and then when he brought dinner your jacket…"

"…was on your bed," John finishes.

"Embarrassed?"

Mouthful of eggs, John shakes his head. Swallowing, he says, "Not at all. It's just… Atlantis is a sub heavy base, sir. Someone out there might be more to your…"

"Hush, John," Cam says, tone of voice knife-edge sharp. "I don't like being aggravated before noon."

John snaps his mouth shut with an audible clack of teeth.

"If someone piques my interest on Atlantis, I'll be upfront with everyone about it." Cam turns his coffee mug in his hand, picks it up and takes a small sip of the steaming brew. "But, I'm kinda like my daddy's old hunting dog. Once I'm on the scent, I rarely change directions. Clear?"

Ignoring the flutter of anticipation in his gut, John whispers, "Crystal."

"Good," Cam replies. "Now, tell me what was left out of those mission briefings."

*

Standing at the bannister in the 'gate room, John looks around and shakes his head. Nine days and he still hasn't come to terms with seeing so many people cluttering Atlantis' halls.

"Lot of people, huh?" Elizabeth asks, taking the spot beside John. "It stops me in my steps every time I come out here."

Canting his upper body towards her, John nods. "There're definitely a lot of them, ma'am."

"I thought we gave up on formalities, John."

"Turning over a new leaf?" John phrases it as more question than statement. He thinks he knows Elizabeth well enough to know she isn't going to let it go with such a flippant statement.

Elizabeth's lips tilt into a knowing smirk. "New leaf or is it something more?"

"Haven't had time to figure that one out all the way," John replies. The total lack of personal time is something that has been grating the length of John's nerves for the past few days. Having so many warm bodies hasn't lessened the load at all. If anything, there's even more to do in a day.

"It has been busy." Turning towards the 'gate, they both watch as the chevrons engage. "You two should just block a day off."

"I don't know what you mean, ma'am."

"Don't play dense with me, John." Elizabeth rolls her lips together, then, as the last chevron engages, says, "Pegasus is a hard place to survive. Don't let it get in the way for too long, okay?"

John cants his head. "Of course not, ma'…"

"And for the love of God, go back to calling me Elizabeth."

Mischievousness flitters through John. Grinning, he says, "Will do… ma'am."

The smack she lands on the back of his head is worth the laughter dancing in her eyes. It's been too long since Elizabeth's smile was so carefree and open. "You are a brat, Major."

*

The sound of his office door sliding shut pulls John away from his paperwork. Eyes going wide, he says, "Seriously? They told me there weren't any more."

Waggling his brows comically, Cam sets the plate of homemade cookies on John's desk. "Rank has its privileges."

Cookie in hand, John arches an eyebrow. 

"And I may have given them my momma's recipe in trade for pulling some back for me." Perching on the corner of John's desk, Cam snags a cookie, closing his eyes and moaning when he bites into it.

Around the cookie in his mouth, John chokes out a laugh. "Jesus. Nice, Mitchell. Here, what? Nineteen, twenty days and you're already blackmailing the kitchens."

"Twenty-one days and," Cam leans across the corner of the desk and presses a closed mouth kiss on John's jaw, "this is the first time we've had more than two seconds alone without interruption. Don't think I've forgotten about you, about my promise to court you."

"I haven't," John replies, dropping his gaze to the desktop. John's been thinking about the husky promise of courting and collars more than is probably reasonable. "I know you've been…"

Both of their earpieces buzz. "Colonel, Major, we've got a bead on Ford."

John drops his head back against his chair, cursing beneath his breath as he listens to Cam answer the page.

"The Major and I will be in the 'gate room momentarily. Bring in McKay and Teyla. The team will be dialing out in ten." Cam grasps John's hand and pulls him into a stand. Lips pressed against John's ear, Cam says, "I've been busy, but that is no excuse for not making time for this, for you. That is going to change. As soon as you get back, that is going to change."

Stepping back, Cam nods towards the door. "Let's go, Major. You've got a man to bring home."

*

"Christ," John moans, coming to slowly. 

"Major?" Teyla asks.

The fact that they're tied together, back-to-back, is the only thing about this situation that John approves of. At least this way he knows that Teyla is okay.

Teyla leans her head against John's and asks, "Where are we?"

"I dunno," John admits. "But, I was just about to ask _him_."

The man on the other side of the cave stands up. The dude is huge. John swallows nervously, muttering, "Cam is gonna tan my ass when we get back."

Teyla chuckles and then groans. "He did specifically tell you to stay out of trouble."

Focusing on the guy with the gun – the really cool looking gun – John says, "Why don't you tell us who you are and what you want?" When no answer comes, John adds, "Alright, I'll go first. I'm Major John Sheppard."

"And I am Teyla Emmagan."

"Major?" The guy asks.

Nodding, John says, "It's my rank, my military designation."

"Specialist Ronon Dex." The man's – Dex's – voice is as deep as John expected. 

"That's you?"

"Name and rank," Dex replies.

"Now we're getting somewhere," John says. "So, military?"

"I used to be."

John winces. He recognizes the sound of defeat. "Okay. Wanna tell me why you've got us tied up, Specialist Dex? I'm thinking if you wanted to kill us, that'd have already happened."

"Maybe I wanted you to be awake for it," Dex returns.

John shrugs as much as the ropes will allow. "Or, maybe, you're hoping we can help you."

"Most people just want me gone." Dex waves his gun through the air. "I bring the wraith."

John frowns. "You bring them?"

"I'm a Runner," Dex says. "They put a tracker in my back. They use it to hunt me."

"They _hunt_ you?" John can't imagine how that must feel. To always be on the run, unable to form bonds, have friends – or a platoon of gun happy Marines – at his back. It's about the most fucked up thing he’s encountered since arriving in Pegasus.

"Perhaps Doctor Beckett can help, Major," Teyla says, drawing John's thoughts away from the horror of being tracked and trapped by wraith.

"If Specialist Dex is willing to let us go back to the Stargate…"

"Stargate?" Dex interrupts.

"Big ring, you travel through it," John replies, his usual edge coming back into his voice. His head hurts and the cold floor of the cave has his ass going numb. And Cam really is going to throttle him after this is all said and done. Plus, he does want to help the big guy out, maybe get a closer look at that crazy-ass gun. "I need to contact the medic in my… unit."

"She stays."

"No…"

"I am willing, John," Teyla says, talking right over his protest. "I have heard stories of the Runners. Specialist Dex will not hurt me while you are gone."

"Teyla," John sighs, frustrated. "How about you go…"

"No," Dex says, working John free of the bindings. "You go, she stays."

"Well, since you asked so nicely and all." John glares at Dex. "If you hurt her, it'll be more than the wraith you're running from."

Dex cants his head. "We'll be here when you get back."

*

"Kidnapped," Cam growls. "Do I even want to know how that happened?"

John rolls his shoulders. "Have you seen his gun? The one that has two settings: stun and kill. He nailed Teyla and then turned that thing on me. I didn't even see him until I came to."

"Good thing it was set to stun," Cam murmurs. Pointing to the MALP feed coming in on the screen, he adds, "His home world is gone. Total destruction. I haven't told him yet."

John pushes up to his toes and hums. "We could offer him a place here."

Cam turns to John and glares. "You want me to ask the guy who _kidnapped_ you to live on the city? Really, John?"

"I agree with the Major," Lorne says from behind them. When Cam transfers his glare from John onto Evan, Lorne defends himself with, "I've seen the guy in the field. He knows what he's doing."

Cam buries his face in his hands, muttering about losing control before he really even had it. Looking up, he says, "Fine. I'll talk to him."

*

Ronon Dex makes John's mouth water. It's mostly his very fantabulous energy weapon that makes John's mouth water, but one is attached to the other and Dex isn't exactly hard on the eyes. Bringing the Runner back from Planet Sunburn doesn't take the sting out of losing Ford again, but it damn sure goes a long way to making John feel better about fighting the wraith.

Dex is _eager_ to get some of his own back. That's just the kind of man John likes to have on his team. Since Cam approved the placement yesterday, John's been itching to go back through the 'gate.

"Do you want him?"

John shudders as Cam's voice washes over him. Glancing over his shoulder, he waits until Cam is looking at him and shakes his head. "Beyond as a member of my 'gate team? Nope."

"You're sure?" John follows Cam's gaze through the glass and into the sparring room below. Ronon and five Marines are covered in sweat and not showing any signs of stopping. "He's pretty hot."

"I'm pretty much in love with his gun, but that's as far as that goes." Frowning, John asks, "What's really at play here?"

"Honestly?" Cam asks. When John nods, he says, "Wondering how many times our plans are gonna get canceled before you decide to look somewhere else."

Rolling his eyes, John says, "You realize that there isn't a line of Doms outside my door, right?"

"That doesn't mean you're not scouting for one."

"I'm not. I wasn't even thinking about it. Then you barreled in and all of that went ass over tea kettle." A light flush steals over John's cheeks. "I'm still not looking. Now I'm just kind of waiting."

"Jesus, John," Cam mutters and then drags a hand over his face. "Dinner, tonight. And after we eat, we're having a long talk because, right now, I'm not even sure I can wait long enough to court you properly."

*

"Major."

John pushes away from the railing and turns. "Hey, Bates, what's up?"

"Colonel Mitchell asked me to retrieve your radio and direct you to meet him on the east pier." Dean Bates holds out his hand and, after John passes over his radio, starts walking with him out of the 'gate room.

"I know the way to the pier, Sergeant."

"Sir." Bates gnaws on his bottom lip and then blurts, "If I may speak freely?"

"Of course," John replies. "Long as Caldwell isn't around."

Chuckling, Bates says, "Definitely not when Caldwell is here." He shakes his head and the smile slips. "You want to know why we've all welcomed Colonel Mitchell so easily?"

"Because he's a good CO?" John asks, the words tinged with his customary snark.

Bates shakes his head. "Nowhere near it, sir. It's because of you."

"Me?" John stops in the middle of the hall. "What the hell does that mean?"

Nudging John into movement again, Bates says, "We all wanted you as base commander and were prepared to hardass anyone else right back to Earth."

"That explains that first week," John mutters, thinking about the cold shoulders Cam had faced when they'd first arrived.

"But," Bates says, talking right over John's comment." Major, _John_ , you're different with the Colonel here. Before, after Sumner, you kept to yourself. You used your team to keep yourself insulated, a buffer between you and all of the assets under your command." Bates holds up a hand when John starts to protest. "I know why. We forced the situation in that direction. It's just, now, you're not that person anymore."

"Is there a point to this?" John growls. The little voice in the back of his is starting to screech at him to _end this shit right now_. 

"Sir, it's obvious to everyone that the Colonel is interested in you."

John looks away, the conversation nearing painful in its awkwardness. He does not have these kinds of discussions with his men. Except, they're not really _his_ men anymore. No longer being the CO opens up room for him to start seeing beyond everyone's rank, seeing them as Doms and subs and friends. The lines between the three, between subordinate and dynamic and friend, are getting blurrier and blurrier.

It's the exact reason John didn't hook-up with anyone on Atlantis before. His role as CO was sudden, unexpected. There was no room for things like friends or lovers.

"And, if I can be so bold, you're not shooting him down like you've done with every other Dom who's tried. That implies that you're just as interested."

John drags a hand through his hair. "Look it here, the door to the east pier. Thanks for the escort. I'll just…" John flaps a hand towards the door.

"If you're at all interested, don't shut him down, okay?"

"Ever think you're reading into things, Bates?" 

Bates shakes his head. "No, sir. If it was just one of us seeing it? Maybe. But no way are we all seeing the same wrong thing." Resting a hand on the door, Bates says, "Sir, I'd still follow you into a hive ship full of starving wraith with a single round chambered. That won't change. It's _because_ we will follow you, that we all want to see you settled, happy even. So, just, let yourself have this if it's what you want."

Bates opens the door and nods when John steps past him. 

"Dean," John says, refusing to turn around and meet the man's gaze. He swallows and whispers, "Thank you."

"Any time, John."

John waits until he hears the door shut, then, stuffing his hands into his pockets, he walks out to the end of the pier. 

*

John stops short and chuckles. Cam grilling burgers is not what he'd been expecting. "You brought a hibachi with you?"

"And a cooler full of beer," Cam replies, pointing towards the cooler. When John just stands there, Cam adds, "Don't tell me you'd rather have wine and roses?"

"God, no," John replies as he toes off his shoes and, grabbing a beer, drops down with his feet dangling over the side of the pier. "What'd it cost you to get the hamburger from the mess?"

"Nothing." Cam flips the burgers and then, looking at John, smirks. "When I gave them the cookie recipe, I included one for turnovers. That pear-like thing from that one planet –"

"Pee-four-oh, two-one-seven," John murmurs.

"Yeah, that one. Those things will make really good turnovers." Cam tips his beer back. "Medium-rare good?"

"Perfect," John replies, his mouth watering at the thought of a fresh-grilled burger. "What do you need me to do?"

"Blue bag," Cam says, placing slices of cheese on top of the burgers. "It has all the stuff in it."

Stuff, it turns out, means all the necessities for really prime burgers. Little tubs of sliced onions and mayo. Ketchup and mustard. Pickles. A whole jar of dill pickle spears. A bag of Ruffles and huge sesame rolls. "How did you get all of…" John shakes his head. "You don't play fair, Cameron Mitchell."

"Nope, I play to win. Not a fair thing about it," Cam retorts. With an innocent little boy grin, asks, "So, how am I doin'?"

Taking another swallow of his beer, John snorts. "I think I'm a little bit in love with you right now."

"Typical man," Cam deadpans. "Show him a grill and he gets stupid."

Rolling his eyes, John lets Cam have his fun. He's not ready to tell the man just how little he'd been joking. That, as unreasonable as it sounds, he's already teetering on the cusp of something a whole lot deeper than just like. Holding out the plates, he says, "You could make a bundle on the black market with that thing."

"I know," Cam says, sliding a burger onto each of the plates John is holding. "I've already traded for a day on the mainland."

"You've been to the mainland?" John asks, a touch on the pissy side. He wanted to be the one to show Cam the mainland.

"Nope, but you'll be giving me the tour on Monday."

Pleased, John drops his gaze to his plate. "Oh, good."

"We're both off the clock for a solid eight." The look Cam gives him is full of promise. "I'm sure you can find some place for us to hide over there."

A list starts forming in John's mind; the places and things on the mainland that he wants to share with Cam. Specifically the short strip of sand and series of connected caves on the far side of the peninsula. 

It's the perfect place for a date.

*

Belly full and the sun far below the horizon, John stretches and then, pulling his knees up, wraps his arms around his legs and looks out into the inky darkness of the ocean.

"So," Cam says, breaking the quiet, "you and McKay didn't mesh?"

John shakes his head. "Rodney's a switch and has an s-and-m streak as wide as his ego."

"And while you could handle the switch aspect, pain isn't your game," Cam murmurs.

Surprise lances through John. Cam is dead on the money. He can switch when he has to; and for the right person, he would. "What gave that away?"

"Nothing specific, just a lot of time watching. I spent the first two weeks on the Daedalus just watching you; add in the time at command and since we got here… makes for some serious investment." Cam scoots across the blanket, invading the edges of John's personal space. "As to the pain thing, you pushed off the known sadists on Earth faster than the other Doms."

"Not sure how I feel about your creepy stalker ways, Cameron." John is joking. Mostly.

"Recon," Cam responds. "All the good Doms do it." Cam tosses a wayward beer top into the trash bag. "At first, I figured you had someone out here. Thought I'd content myself with staring at you until you left again. Then Landry informed me that I was taking over out here. That opened the door enough for me to entertain a few possibilities, prodded me to ask a few questions. Finding out there was no one waiting, not even a casual thing, I started paying attention."

"Tell me what your recon revealed," John requests.

"Testing me, Major?"

A small huff of laughter bursts out of John. "Maybe."

"Or," Cam says, tongue darting out and licking his lips, "maybe you're hoping that I'll be close enough to the truth that you won't have to talk at all."

"There's that," John admits. Nudging Cam with his toes, he asks, "Gonna tell me?"

"I should tell you no," Cam mutters. He's quiet until John pushes against him again. "From what I can see, you carry the weight of the entire base on your shoulders. The scientists look to you for leadership and protection, the Marines… they follow my orders but it's you they trust to come and get 'em if they're in trouble. You live in a world that never slows down, never stops demanding things from you, but it never lets you know the true depth of its expectations."

John opens his mouth to protest, to tell Cam just how wrong he is, but, when Cam arches a brow challengingly, lets it go. He knows the expectations. He really does. Everyone expects his all, one hundred percent, and then, when he thinks he's reached his limit, they expect him to go that extra inch.

"You need a shelter, a place where your world is still and quiet. Where expectations _and_ consequences are constant, never changing." Cam reaches out and drags a finger over John's face, tracing along his brow and hairline. "You take care of everyone here, you need someone to take care of you."

Leaning into the caress, John asks, "You saw all of that?"

Silently, Cam nods.

John takes a deep breath and, forcing himself to relax, says, "You saw a helluva lot."

"I saw _you_." Cam huffs and says, "All through your debrief I wanted to lock you in my rooms, tie you down and fuck you until your mind was so blown you couldn't _say_ wraith, much less think about one." 

John moans softly, a crazy rush of _want_ zipping down his spine.

Cam moves in closer, tugging John's hands until John unwraps from around himself. "Then you started talking about riding that nuke into the hive ship and I wanted to strap your ass until _I_ felt better about it all."

Another type of desire – a basic need borne of his dynamic – crashes over John. Shuddering, he follows the push of Cam's hand and lies back on the blanket.

"Yeah," Cam hums, hoisting himself up and over to straddle John's thighs. "You're pretty, John. I've wanted all this pretty in my bed since I sat down across the table from you. But you're also reckless with yourself, and when you add that to how pretty you are…" Cam smiles and shakes his head. "It… _you_ call out to the nurturer in me, just begging for me to hold you close, make you stop and breathe."

Cam circles his fingers around John's wrists. He leans in, moving closer and closer until his lips are scant millimeters away from John and John's arms are high above his head. "Since I've told you what I see in you, do you want to hear about me?"

John's, "yes," is more gurgle than an actual spoken word.

"I'm militant about control in damn near every aspect of my submissive's life: meals, sleep, sex. I'm not good about keeping it limited to the bedroom, but I'd never infringe in the field. Whoever has point when we leave Atlantis, has point until we return." Cam stops talking, squeezing his fingers around John's wrists and holding them tight for a heartbeat as he busses a light kiss over John's lips. "I expect to be listened to and respected at _all_ times. I believe pain, true pain, is reserved for discipline and punishment, when I need an effective attention getter. And trust me, if I'm disobeyed, I won't hesitate to strap my sub's ass until it's blistering hot." 

Dragging his lips across John's cheek, stopping when they're brushing against John's ear, Cam says, "That doesn't mean that I won't spank that same ass just because I want it nice and warm when I slide into it. Because, really, there isn't a painful thing about spanking for pleasure and I think it's well past time for you to remember the kind of pleasure that a little bit of pain can bring."

"Jesus, _fuck_ ," John hisses. He's aching with want and need, every level of his being – sexual and mental and emotional – pinging hard and fast with Cam's words.

This is what he's wanted. A person who cares enough to make, to _demand_ that he step back and stand down. Someone to buffer him from the demands of the outside world. It's what he'd thought he'd found in the deserts of Afghanistan, what was lost in a chopper crash before he knew anything for sure. It's what he's held himself back from looking for since, what he's been too afraid of getting a taste of and then losing again.

Somehow Cam Mitchell slipped in under the radar, staging a stealth attack and tearing at John's walls from the inside out.

"Tell me, John," Cam's words dance moist over John's cheek. "Tell me you want to see, to find out how good we can be together or tell me to fuck off. But tell me something."

John pulls against Cam's hold, trembling when Cam's grip stays fast and true. "I want…" John stops and swallows, clearing his throat and then starting again, louder. "I want to see, to try."

"Thank you," Cam whispers, mouthing the words against John's cheek.

Cam inches to the left and his mouth closes over John's and everything – words and thoughts and ideas – is lost to the to the taste and feel of the kiss, the new discovery of the unknown. It's like a night sky bursting with stars, each one a hope and a want and a need.

The kiss breaks slowly, lips dragging together and then apart, then together again. Between one press and the next, Cam murmurs, "Come to my room?"

John trembles again, every nerve ending flaring with anticipation. "Yes." 

*

Expectation and longing collide with the cool draft of Cam's air conditioning unit and a tiny shiver races through John. 

"Raise the temperature in the room," Cam says, hands rubbing briskly over John's arms, "and then strip."

With a thought from John, the air shuts down and the windows open, the air around them rising until it matches the balmy night outside. When the room warms slightly, he pulls the tee over his head and folds it, stripping down with a precision he can thank the Air Force for.

"Perfect," Cam murmurs, eyes glittering in the low light of the room, shifting from their normal bright blue to near black. Tugging his shirt over his head, Cam says, "Go start the shower, John. Set the water to what you like, we'll find a compromise tomorrow."

_Tomorrow._

Tomorrow means he's really doing this tonight. Turning, John says, "Yes, sir –"

"In here, it's Cam." 

John glances over his shoulder. "Cam."

The confusion John's feeling must be showing on his face because Cam says, "I'll earn that honor, John. Don't say it again – not sir or master, nothing like it – until you mean it."

Emotion wells up in John's throat, exploding through him in a rush of feelings. It takes until Cam steps into the shower behind him for John to realize it's respect and trust. With that one sentence, that one request, Cameron laid it all out there for John: this isn't a game for him. The knowledge quiets the nagging hum of what-if, the worry that maybe Cam saw this as a way to pass the time.

Sighing, John relaxes against Cam.

"You were holding something back." Cam drags a hand over John's chest, circling the tips of his fingers tighter and tighter around John's nipples until the skin tightens and John's nipples pebble into hard peaks. 

John forces himself to stay relaxed. If he hasn't learned anything else about Colonel Cameron Mitchell, John has learned the man is a talker. It goes against everything in John. Swallowing, he focuses on Cam's touch and, when the words are within reach, says, "Wasn't sure if this was a one time thing."

Cam nips John's neck. "What did I tell you on the Daedalus?"

"That you're going to own me," John answers immediately. The words have rattled around in John's head, making themselves known at the most inconvenient times, since Cam said them.

"That sound like I'd be remotely satisfied by a one off?"

John shakes his head. "No."

"Exactly," Cam replies. "I want to make all that you are mine."

"Oh," John murmurs. " _Fuck._ "

Fingers closing sharply around John's nipples, Cam chuckles. "There'll be plenty of that too."

*

Fingers slip soapy and wet between John's ass cheeks. "When's the last time a man penetrated you?"

A memory of Mike Holland, sweat rolling off his skin as he thrust his hips, pushing his cock deeper into John's ass, plays through John's mind. "Afghanistan," John says, quietly. "Two years, give or take."

"Mhmm," Cam hums. "And since you've been penetrated at all?"

If Cam had asked before John spent the night with him on the Daedalus, before he had fingers stroking along his scalp and lulling him to sleep, the answer would have been the same: not since Mike. But he did spend the night with Cam. "A couple of nights ago."

"With?" Cam asks, nudging them both beneath the streaming water.

John hopes the flush from the heat of the water covers the blush blooming over his cheeks. "Couple of my fingers and…" 

"Turn the water off, John," Cam murmurs. After the water shuts down, Cam crowds John against the wall. "Fingers and?"

"A… the dildo from my kit." John closes his eyes and adds, "While I was jerking off."

"Christ, Sheppard," Cam mutters, his grip sliding over John's hip. "I'm gonna want to see that. Spread out and chasing after your own pleasure? Bet it's a beautiful sight."

John groans when Cam steps away from him. "Cam."

"Bed," Cam says, voice rough and full of sex. "It's long past time for me to have you in my bed."

*

John reaches the edge of the bed and stops. His attention is focused on the four cuffs – wide strips of well-worked, chocolate brown leather with a smaller, longer band stitched in the center, a burnished metal buckle dangling off one end – laying on the pillows. He wants to pick them up, to breathe the scent of the leather in. Slowly he reaches out and then jerks his hand back. "Cam?"

"Go ahead, John." 

With Cam pressed tight against his back, John snags the smaller set of cuffs. They're soft and supple, exactly what he doesn't expect from a set of cuffs. "Where… did you bring these with you?"

Cam reaches around John and fingers the stitching in one of the cuffs. "Remember that day Elizabeth insisted I accompany her off world?"

"Yeah," John says, trailing his finger behind Cam's over the rough stitches and the butter-soft leather. 

"There was a man in the village, a leather crafter," Cam says, working the buckle of one cuff open and wrapping the leather around John's left wrist. "If you like these, we'll go back. His stock was impressive."

Manipulating the smaller strap and buckle, Cam snugs the cuff tight against John's wrist. "Good?"

Making a fist, feeling the leather tighten around the flex of his muscles, John murmurs, "Very."

Cam repeats the process with the remaining cuff on John's right wrist. Curling his hands over the cuffs, he asks, "Too tight?"

John shakes his head. "No."

"If they become uncomfortable and you don't tell me…" The words trail off. 

"Blistering ass," John fills in. "I remember that part."

"Indeed." Cam pushes John towards the bed. "On your back, darlin'. It's time for me to learn you."

*

Wrists locked together and held high above his head by a single chain, John relaxes against the bed. The whirling chaos of his brain starts settling first into a distant hum and then, when Cam closes the cuffs around his ankles, blessed silence.

"Slow down word?" Cam asks.

"Nimis," John replies. When Cam arches a brow, John flushes. "Latin for too much."

"Geek," Cam whispers, chuckling. "Nimis. Word to stop completely?"

"Desino," John murmurs.

Cam crawls onto the bed, sitting back on his haunches between the vee of John's spread legs, hands dragging over John's calves. "Don't wanna chain your ankles, would prefer to have your legs wrapped tight around me. Don't make me regret that decision."

Shaking his head, John says, "I won't."

"Good." Cam curls his hand around John's left ankle and, with a wicked grin, says, "Let's learn."

*

Marks – perfect rings of teeth and dark purple hickeys and scratches of light pink – litter John's body. He's never, _never_ been this gone, mind blown and teetering on the edge of coming, without a cock in his ass. Sweat-slick and aching, John gasps, "Cam."

Teeth drag over John's collarbone and, with a nip to John's ear, Cam whispers, "Hours. I could spend hours with you like this."

Head pushing back into the pillow, John moans. Hours of this will kill him. "Jesus. _Fuck._ "

"I haven't had near enough time to learn you yet. To find the places that make you shiver and the ones that make you moan." Cam moves down John's body, licking and sucking John's chest and abdomen. When he's stretched along the bed, nestled between John's legs, he murmurs, "To search out the one place that'll tear away the blanket of aloofness you wrap yourself in."

Cam sinks two lubed fingers into John's ass and swallows around John's prick. At the same fucking time.

John's eyes roll back and his back bows, arms straining against the chain holding them in place. His mouth falls open and an incoherent string of babble – _so good_ and _yes_ and _god_ jesus _please just fuck me_ – tumbles out, one word after the next with barely a pause in between.

"That's it, John. Fall into it."

Like the chill touch of a ghost, Cam's breathy words skate cold over the dampness on John's cock. Trembling, John fights to maintain control, to hold onto to himself. When the two fingers disappear and then come back with the heavy push of four, his thoughts skitter away and John keens. 

He bucks up, fucking his cock into the air, and his left foot slides against the sheets. And, heart trip-hammering against his ribs, John squeezes his eyes shut and, swallowing, manages to push one word through gritted teeth. "Please."

"Yes," Cam hisses, voice reeking with satisfied triumph.

Cam pulls his fingers free from John's ass, leaving John open and empty and _wanting_ , and John whimpers, "No, fuck, don't stop. So close."

"Not stopping. Not now that I have you in my bed and asking for it," Cam mutters, the sound of a condom wrapper tearing open echoing softly beneath his words. 

Then John's legs are splayed wide and his hole is stretching around Cam's dick and, dragging in a deep breath, John goes ragdoll lax against the mattress and takes and takes and _takes_ everything on offer.

Biting down on his lip, John shudders. It's been so long – been _too_ long – since he's felt so possessed, so _wanted_. The emotions he usually keeps barricaded, locked firmly in place behind a mask of easy-going indifference, are roiling beneath the surface, threatening to break loose at any given second. "Oh, shit. Cam… I'm gonna, I need…"

Cam snaps his hips forward, hard and brutal and so damn perfect John whimpers. "At your leisure, John. Take what you need."

"Oh, fuck."

"Just focus on me," Cam says, hand curling tight in John's hair. "It's all give and take, John. You just need to let it happen."

With a stuttered moan, the last vestige of John's self-control shatters. 

He wallows in everything that Cam gives him. John loses himself to Cam's words – _that's it_ and _so pretty_ and _never letting you go_ and _mine, mine, fuck yeah, mine_ – and Cam's touches – the tight grip on his hips and the teeth scraping over his skin, the scratch of Cam's five-o'clock shadow and the long, deep thrusts pushing Cam's dick deeper and deeper and deeper – until he's so focused on Cam – on _them_ – that the rest of the world fades, invisible in the face of the mere possibility of Cam's promises.

The promise of being wanted and cared for, of having rules and expectations _and_ consequences.

The promise of being owned.

Then Cam whispers against John's ear – _you are mine_ – and, body going tight, John arches his back and comes.

*

Slouched across the room from Cam, John decides that his brilliant idea of keeping their work relationship and personal relationship separate ranks right up there with waking up the wraith. Inconceivably stupid.

Closing his eyes, he drops his head back against the wall. He wants a do-over; wants to turn the clock back and replay the three hours that have passed since leaving Cam's quarters. Maybe have breakfast in Cam's rooms, invite him on his morning run with Ronon. And, instead of slinking to the far wall in the room, he wants to claim the seat next to Cam as his, wants Cam to make some kind of stupid overture that makes it obvious to everyone that he's claiming John.

"Okay there, John?" Elizabeth asks, pulling John's attention back to the conversation.

Blinking, John jerks a fast nod. "Yes, ma'am."

Disbelief flitters across her face. "We can postpone this for a few days if we need to."

"Nah," John replies, forcing a smile. "McKay is all packed and ready to go. No reason to make him rearrange his schedule again."

"Major…"

"McKay," John drawls, beginning to find his stride again. "We're going today. It's just a look-see, not like we're waging war on the wraith."

"Exactly why it can wait," Rodney snaps. 

"I agree with Rodney," Elizabeth says. "If you're not up to it…"

Pushing off the wall, John cuts a glance at Cam. "You have anything to add?"

"Said everything I needed to already this morning," Cam replies with a shake of his head. "You made a convincing argument to run the schedule."

John snorts softly. His argument, if one could even call it that, centered around the fact that they could camp out Monday night on the mainland if they held to the schedule today. "Here it is: I'm fine to go on this mission. And if I wasn't, the only one who can pull the plug is the Colonel." 

Cam cants his head. "You've got my go ahead, Major."

"Let's load up, people." Looking directly at Cam, he adds, "We'll be back in a few hours ready to debrief."

"Bring everyone home safe, including yourself, John," Cam replies.

"Will do."

*

Tapping his fingers against his data pad, Rodney says, "So, you and the Colonel, huh?"

"Not your business, Rodney," John drawls, watching the HUD. Glancing over his shoulder, he asks, "Been here before?"

Ronon and Teyla both shake their heads.

"I do not believe I have been to this planet before," Teyla says. 

"Because there is nothing here. Nothing. Even less than nothing," Rodney replies, eyes focused on his data pad. "It became my business, Major, when you two brought it into the morning brief."

"It might make a good retreat site," John murmurs, scanning the horizon. "We didn't bring anything into the meeting. My mind was wandering this morning. That's it."

"Did he force you?"

John jerks in his seat. "What? No!"

Rodney arches a brow, skepticism rolling off him in waves. "Really? You want me to believe that as hard as you've worked at staying alone – I mean, we were on the verge of _dying_ and you still turned every offer down – there wasn't any coercion involved at all? I think not, Major."

Sliding his sunglasses into place, John growls, "Cam didn't take anything that wasn't offered, no matter how you try to spin it. Let it go, Rodney."

"I'm just saying," Rodney says, frowning at his data pad, "neither of you seemed comfortable with each other this morning. That doesn't speak very highly of your night."

"My choice, McKay." John banks the jumper to the left, following a mountain range.

One hand flapping, Rodney says, "Your choice? To what, not acknowledge him… this… whatever you two did, have?"

Looking over the top of his sunglasses, John drawls, "Maybe I wanted to avoid conversations like this, Rodney."

"Why?"

Sighing, John shakes his head. "Because it's none of your business. This is between me and Cam."

"But…" Rodney stops abruptly when the HUD lights up. "Huh."

"Huh?"

"We need to bring a geology team back, Major," Rodney replies, watching the fast scroll of information. "Even if we can't use this as a secondary Beta site, there are some very useful minerals in those mountains down there."

John pulls up the topography map on the HUD. "That one?"

"Yes, yes," McKay murmurs. "And the second one to the right." 

"Alright," John says, taking the jumper to a higher altitude. "We'll do a complete surface scan and then head back to Atlantis."

"John," Rodney says. "Look, my business or not, I'm worried, okay?"

"Duly noted," John replies. "Don't ever bring this up again, Rodney. I mean that."

A look of pure indignation crosses McKay's face. It's all the warning John needs to know that as far as Rodney is concerned, this conversation is nowhere near over. 

*

"You're a hard man to find when you put your mind to it."

John stares out over the water, waiting to answer until Cam is leaning on the balcony rail beside him. He'd escaped the debrief as soon as he could and found the most remote balcony he could to hide on. It's his standard operating procedure. "You could've called me up on the radio. I got mine back from Bates this morning, yanno."

"You'd have rather bitched about McKay over an open channel?" Cam asks, bumping his shoulder against John's.

Cracking a small grin, John looks at Cam. "How'd you figure I'd be bitching about McKay?" 

"Pretty easy. Teyla would use those sticks to beat you into seeing her side of it." Cam smirks when John starts laughing. "Ronon still thinks the sun shines outta your ass. And McKay could make a doctor rethink his oath to do no harm without even trying."

John turns back to watching the sun glint off of the water.

"And I'm thinking this morning, he was actively trying."

Closing his eyes, John sighs. Actively trying is putting it mildly.

Quietly, voice barely above a whisper, John says, "He asked me if you coerced me into attending you."

Eyes narrowing, voice cold and flinty, Cam parrots, "Coerced you?"

"And then," John continues, talking right the fuck over Cam because now that he's started he's not stopping until it's all out in the open, "because he pissed me off –"

"Understandable," Cam mutters.

"– I told him not to mention it again. Ever. That never works with McKay." John looks over at Cam. "It's like me trying to walk away from a dare. Some things just will never happen."

Cam reaches for John and then, casting a look around the balcony, lets his hand drop. "Okay, then." 

"Don't," John whispers.

"Don't?"

"This morning, in the meeting, know why I was so damn out of it?" John pushes away from the balcony and, without waiting for Cam to answer, says, "I was trying to figure out what the hell I'd been thinking when I said we needed to keep it separate. So, yeah, don't. Don't pull back from me. Please."

Surprise skitters through Cam's eyes. He reaches out and, wrapping a hand around the back of John's neck, pulls until John is flush against his side. "So this is okay?"

"Yeah." The heavy knot of tension that's been holding him rigid loosens. "Why didn't you…"

"Argue more about it?" Cam asks when John's words peter out. 

John nods, his five-o'clock shadow dragging rough over Cam's shirt.

"Would you've listened?"

He opens his mouth to retort, to say _damn right I would have listened_ , then, thinking about it, John stops and snaps it closed again. Rolling his eyes, he admits, "Probably not."

"Exactly." Cam rubs his hand down John's spine, stopping in the small of John's back. "I'm willing to do this on your timeline, John."

"I'm not ashamed," John says, needing Cam to understand. 

"Never crossed my mind that you were." Cam brings his other arm up and around John, surrounding John in Cam's touch and scent. In his heat.

"It's just, these people have never…" John huffs out a breath and then tries again, "Knowing I'm a sub and _knowing_ I'm a sub are two different things."

"For some people, I'd agree with you." Cam's hands tighten on John's sides, squeezing gently before releasing again. "But these people, especially the ones that were on the first wave, John, you have to know that you could kneel naked in the mess and they, all of them, the scientists _and_ the Marines, would still follow your command to march straight into hell." 

"It's not that. I know who has my back," John says. He trusts the first wave people implicitly. The new people, though… with the exception of Cam and Lorne, maybe that guy Parrish in the science department, he doesn't trust them as far as he could throw them. "For years now, I've pushed everyone off. I don't want anyone trying…"

"Hey," Cam says, soft and easy. "Do you really think there are people here who wouldn't respect your boundaries?"

"I think I'd be seen as a challenge." He's spent too many hours thinking about it. Here and in Afghanistan, during his down time at McMurdo. Because of his attitude, he's the one that the grunts, the Doms out to prove a point, want to break. That's sure as hell what happened when everyone discovered he was banging Mike. "I just thought it'd be easier to keep it separate."

"And how's that working for you?"

Snorting, John lightly smacks Cam's stomach. "Well, let's see, I flaked out in the morning brief and then basically told my best friend to fuck off. Pretty good, huh?"

"What do you want to do, John?"

"I don't want to kneel naked in the mess." 

"Yeah, okay, that ain't ever gonna happen," Cam drawls. "In case you missed it last night, I'm a little on the territorial side. Sharing isn't even in my vocabulary."

The deep bruise Cam sucked up on John's abdomen tingles. "I can get behind that."

"That also means," Cam says, "if everyone knows we're seeing each other seriously, I can buffer some of the attention."

John pulls away and, frowning, says, "I can fight my own battles, Cam."

"Yeah," Cam says, pulling John back in against him, "no one said you can't. Just saying, you won't have to."

"Oh, okay," John mumbles, letting Cam's words tumble around in his mind. The idea of having someone always at his back, shouldering some of the weight, sounds nice. "Wanna have dinner with me?"

"Your place or mine?"

Leaning back, John meets Cam's gaze squarely. "Thinking in the mess."

Arching a brow, Cam asks, "You promise to keep your clothes on?"

"At least through dessert," John replies, grinning. "But if there's blue jello on the menu, I can't guarantee it."

*

John barks out a laugh when Cam drops a serving of red jello in front of him. So caught up with looking at Cam, he doesn't even notice the approving looks it garners.

"Not taking any chances," Cam grumbles, amusement lighting his eyes. Nudging a spoon across the table, he adds, "Eat up, Sheppard."

"Plans for tonight?"

Before Cam can answer another solider joins the conversation. "Colonel, Major."

"Sergeant," Cam says, leaning back in his chair. 

"Major Lorne just cleared medical, sir," Stackhouse says. "He asked me to let you know that both you and Major Sheppard are off the rotation until Tuesday at oh-eight-hundred."

Looking across the table, Cam asks, "John?"

"Not me," John replies, shaking his head. "Last I heard, we were both on until Monday."

Turning back to Stackhouse, Cam asks, "Do you know anything, Sergeant?"

Stackhouse looks away, a light flush blossoming over his cheeks. "The board is clear. Major Lorne's team was the last off-world mission until next week."

"Surprisingly, I knew that," Cam drawls.

"Sir," Stackhouse drags in a deep breath and looks up, meeting Cam eye-to-eye. "A few of us just wanted to give you the time while we could. Things can go to hell around here really fast."

"Thanks, Stackhouse," John says, finally understanding what is going on. Like Bates, Stackhouse and, apparently Lorne, are giving their approval of Cam being such a huge presence in John's life. "It's appreciated. We'll check in with the Major before we go dark on the radio."

Grinning, Stackhouse nods. "Have a good couple of days, sirs."

*

Cam clicks his radio off. "Forty-eight hours down. 'M not sure I know how to act."

"Tell me about it," John says. He's almost sure he'll be crawling out of skin within a day.

Standing at the window, Cam looks to the sky and asks, "Wanna steal a jumper with me? Go for a joy ride or two?"

"Joy ride? Is that what all the cool kids are calling it these days?"

Turning away from the window, Cam lands a fast slap on John's ass. "Go grab a change of clothes."

"Really?" John perks up. Maybe he won't get cabin fever after all. 

"Yup," Cam says. 

"Blankets or food?" 

"Nope, I'll handle all of that." Cam starts herding John towards the door. "Change of clothes, anything that is a personal necessity for the next two days."

He kisses John once, a fast brushing of lips, and palms the door open. "Meet you in the jumper bay in thirty."

*

It's five minutes shy of an hour before John is flying away from the city and into the velvety dark of a Lantean night, but with every inch of distance he puts between them and the city, the more he relaxes. After ten minutes of flying, the last bit of tension eases out of his muscles.

"You have a destination in mind?"

With a thought, John brings up the HUD. Pointing, he says, "See that range?"

Cam nods. "Yeah. Looks like it's a straight drop right into the ocean."

"There's a stretch of beach, a couple of dry caves and stuff on the other side of it." John sends another thought towards the jumper and the map on the HUD zooms in. "It doesn't show up unless it's magnified."

"Oh, wow," Cam murmurs. "Been there before, I take it?"

"Once," John replies. "After the nanite thing. I needed a couple of days down time."

"You were disciplined for that, right?"

Snorting, John shakes his head. "Oh, no. That was an all out punishment."

Laughing, Cam looks over to John. "Really?"

"Elizabeth is mean with a strap." The amusement fades from John's eyes. "We knocked heads about that for about a week and then the next crisis came up and she _demanded_ I handle it."

"And?" Cam asks.

A blush steals over John's cheeks. "And I told her I would but if she ever thought to usurp my command as military leader again I was going to resign my commission and live with the Athosians."

Cam starts laughing again. "You didn't."

"Oh, I did. Elizabeth doesn't think in war terms. She was afraid that I was going to get myself killed with the nanite thing and she reacted like an over-protective, _civilian_ Domme." John rolls an easy shrug. "We agreed to keep very strict chains of command that have no play on personal dynamics. It's part of the reason I call her Elizabeth. That was the first time we forcefully set aside formality."

Nodding, Cam says, "I can see where that would be necessary. You two had no idea if you'd ever see Earth again."

"Exactly. We had to work hard to find a happy medium."

Canting his head to the side, Cam says, "You seem to work well together now."

"That's because she thinks that I'm your problem now," John says with a grin.

With Cam chuckling softly, John sets the jumper down easy and light on the sandy beach, sandwiched between the jagged cliff face and the high tide line. Hitting the radio, he says, "Atlantis, this Jumper One."

"Go ahead, Major." Chuck's voice echoes through the jumper.

"We're on the mainland and are shutting down. The Colonel and I are both on the emergency channel until Monday, we'll check in before we return." John waits for Chuck's acknowledgement before he shuts the jumper down completely.

Pushing to a stand, John looks at Cam and says, "Fire pit?"

"Yeah," Cam says, following John through the darkened jumper. "And I'll get the tent set up."

*

"Standing here, I can almost forget that we're in a different galaxy," Cam says, bare feet digging into the sand.

Even though Cam's back is to him, John nods. "It's hard to not use it as an escape more often."

"No wraith, no Atlantis." Cam turns away from the shore and pins John with a heated stare. "Nothing but space and time."

Goosebumps break across John's skin. Swallowing, he says, "Forty-eight hours worth of time."

"Time to focus on each other."

A low rumbling groan bubbles out of John. 

"Yeah," Cam says, "you like the idea of that, don't you? Like that for the next forty-eight hours it's all about you and me. Two days with nothing more to decide than if I'm going to fuck you or if you're going to blow me."

"Cam," John rasps, voice heavy with need.

"Is that what you want?" Cam leans in close, his words dancing across John's skin with a feather-light touch. "Two days so deep in this thing growing between us that nothing, _nothing_ else matters?"

John sways on his feet, listing closer to the heat of Cam's body.

"Tell me," Cam demands.

"Yes," John whispers. "Please."

A wicked smirk curls the corners of Cam's lips. "Strip for me."

The words – _the tone_ – changes everything. The air goes thick and sticky with the unspoken. Wants and needs. Anticipation. Tiny bursts of energy, static charges of _want_ and _need_ and _ho, fuck, yes_ , spark to life and explode over John's skin. 

"Now, John."

The same out-of-control feeling eating John from the inside out is reflected in Cam's eyes. Suddenly this is so much more than it started out as.

Popping the button on his cargos, John watches Cam watch him. John's breath quickens, and his skin tingles and tightens. He's trapped, caught within the invisible web of Cam's gaze.

Cam's very fucking predatory gaze. 

Pants, underwear. T-shirt. Dog tags. John strips it all off and leaves it in a neat pile at the edge of the blanket. Then he closes his eyes and shudders, a series of lightning fast shakes racking through his body.

John is completely adrift, dancing between his fears and his hopes, his need to be who he is, to have this with Cam and to hold onto his image, be the stalwart solider who depends only on himself.

"Easy, darlin'," Cam murmurs, pressing one hand against John's chest. 

The touch grounds John. It gives him a focus. An anchor. 

"Just breathe," Cam says. "In and out."

Seconds tick off, John matching his breathing to Cam's until the shaking drops to a few stuttered bouts of trembling and then disappears altogether. Sucking in a deep breath, John opens his eyes and, staring at Cam, nods.

"Okay?"

"Yeah…" John stops and clears his throat, surprised at how raspy, how worn, his voice is. "Yes."

Studying John's face, Cam leans in and busses his lips over John's temple. "Good."

Minutes slip away, the two of them content to simply lean against each other.

*

The easy silence cracks and then snaps, the arousal rushing back to the forefront, fast and bright and overwhelming. "Cam. Please."

"Needy boy," Cam replies, fingers fluttering over the length of John's dick. "On the blanket, John. Give me something pretty to look at while I finish setting up for the night."

A disgruntled whine escapes before John can stop it.

Flicking his finger against the head of John's cock, Cam growls, "Now."

Pain flashes sharp and bright, leaving as fast as it appeared. Closing his eyes, John swallows back the rush of _yes, yes, yes_ that wants to tumble out. Slowly, he steps to the left and then, feet on the edge of the blanket, he sinks to his knees. With his knees spread wide, his arms crossing the small of his back, John presents himself as near perfectly as he can get.

"Oh," Cam whispers, canting his head to the side. "Very pretty display."

The praise raises a blush to John's cheeks. He hasn't blushed this much since high school. He'd be distressed about it if he weren't so fucking turned on. "For you."

"Yes," Cam says. "For me."

John watches Cam move quietly around the campsite. He snatches up John's pile of clothes and retreats into the jumper, returning with a stack of pillows gripped in his hands and a backpack slung over one shoulder. John gives a passing thought to where Cam could have hidden it all.

Cam drops the pillows on the blanket and, unzipping the backpack, pitches a bottle of lube, condoms, and a dildo down beside them.

Sucking in a breath, John bites his lip to stop the whimper from bubbling out. He isn't entirely successful. A short, high-pitched whine escapes when he exhales. 

"I won't restrain you," Cam says, tugging his shirt over his head. "Not when we're alone out here without the protection of Atlantis."

John's disappointment is outweighed by the fact that Cam is right. Being caught out by a surprise wraith attack while he's bound and naked isn't high on John's to-do list.

Cam pops the button on his pants. "That doesn't mean I don't expect you to be still when I demand it, though."

A wave of eagerness – unadulterated wanton desire – bursts bright and hot, rippling through John's muscles and breaking over his skin in patches of salt-tinged sweat. 

Using his foot to nudge the dildo closer to John, Cam says, "Now, give me a show, boy."

*

John's afraid to touch his cock. Between the heavy weight of Cam's stare and the dildo splitting his ass, he's afraid that the moment his hand even grazes his dick his body is going to seize up and he'll come. Control is something he can only dream about.

"Cam," he groans, his head dropping back and his eyes fluttering shut. "Please."

"Just a little bit longer, John. You can hold out for me."

Cam's voice rolls over him and John shudders. He's not so sure he agrees with Cam. He wants, he _needs_ to come. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pushes the dildo in again and twists his wrist to the left. The move skates the silicon toy over his prostate and fireworks explode behind his eyelids. 

"Oh, shit," John mutters, body flush and slick with a light sheen of sweat. Hitting his prostate was a stupid fucking move. _Stupid_ move. "I need… gotta… _please_ …"

"Stop," Cam growls.

John freezes his movements and his words. The dildo is buried deep in his ass and his body is taut with expectation.

"Open your eyes, John, and watch me."

Blinking his eyes open, John damn near comes untouched. Cameron Mitchell naked and touched by moonlight is a sight to behold. His straining erection just makes it all the better.

"I'd planned on waiting, on watching you come all over yourself." Licking his lips, Cam drops to his knees and crawls into the space between John's spread legs. "However, plans change."

"Fuck."

"Yep," Cam responds. "That is the new plan."

*

With a hand on each of John's knees, Cam pushes John's legs further apart. He arches his back against the strain and pull of muscles in his thighs. "Oh."

"Too much?" Cam asks, rubbing his hands up and down John's thighs.

"God, no." It's definitely not too much, not unless Cam means too much of a good thing. If this is how the next two days are gonna go, John figures he'll be wrecked come Tuesday morning. Completely wrecked and useless. 

"I want you to hold it, and if you need to move, tell me first." 

John opens his mouth to respond but Cam grabs the base of the dildo and pumps in and out of John's ass. All that John can manage is a long, guttural moan. 

"You're gorgeous like this. Wanton and unrestricted."

Seating the dildo fully in John's ass, Cam scoots back, shimmies down to lie flat on his stomach, and licks a path over the sharp jut of John's hipbone. He trails a string of kisses across John's sac, nips at the base of John's dick. He brushes his lips against the tender juncture of thigh and groin and then, without warning, opens his mouth and bites down, sinking his teeth deep into the skin.

"Christ." John curls his fingers into the blanket, fisting flannel and a handful of the sand beneath them. His breaths speed up, coming out in a series of rapid huffs and sighs. And he's about a hot second away from coming. "Cam…gonna blow soon."

The bite mark throbs and stings even after Cam releases his hold and sits back on his haunches. John's looking forward to feeling it for _days_. 

"Don't you dare come until I'm in you," Cam growls, ripping open a condom and, after smoothing it into place, coating his dick in lube with one hand, pulling the dildo out of John's ass with the other. "That's mine, John. You don't get to decide when it happens."

"Yeah, yours…" John doesn't know if he's talking about the orgasm or he's talking about himself. He's beginning to think Cam owns them both equally. " _Christ_." 

"Look at me, John."

John forces his gaze away from the star-littered sky and onto Cam's face.

With a quirk of his lips, Cam angles his hips forwards and pushes into John. One thrust, balls deep.

And John comes, decorating his abdomen in thick streaks of spunk.

*

"Ready to go back?"

John leans back into Cam's embrace. His body aches in the most delicious way, but, for the most part, his head is clear. He credits Cam for that, for taking the time to start bringing him back up last night. For using words and easy touches to ease John out of the sweet headspace he'd been in. Shaking his head, he answers Cam's question. "We have a choice?"

Cam huffs a laugh, lands a solid swat on John's thigh. "No, but we can come back."

"Yeah?"

"Thinking a weekend a month, maybe?" Cam pushes John towards the jumper. "It'd be good for everyone, actually. Have two days of complete down time a month. Make them get off the city and come to the mainland."

John takes his place in the pilot's seat gingerly, rolling his eyes when Cam gives him a self-satisfied smirk. Tapping his radio, he says, "Atlantis, this is Jumper One."

"Go ahead, Major."

"Bates?"

"Yes, sir."

"The Colonel and I are going to buzz the Athosian settlement. Give us about an hour and we should be back on the city."

"We'll see you then, sir. Atlantis out."

*

The easy set of his shoulders is gone. Forty-eight hours with his Do… with Cam down the drain, destroyed by a band of misfits with a homemade potato gun. A very well made potato gun. It's not even the getting shot down that's chapping John's ass – though, the getting shot down does kind of burn in a really not pleasant way. It's the fact that these… these _people_ put a fucking collar on him. 

A collar, and it is buckled around his neck.

Leather and supple and so damned snug there is no way for John to even imagine that it's something that is most definitely _not_ a collar.

It's such a mockery of what a collar should be that John can't even begin to wrap his head around it.

His issue with the collar is not lost on his team. That much is obvious in the worried, pity-filled looks they keep shooting him. It's enough to make him itch.

He cuts a glance at Ronon. "Any luck?"

Frowning, Ronon says, "Not yet."

Which totally means it's just a matter of time. John can't wait. He wants the collar off first, before anything else.

Teyla nods. "These bindings are very secure."

"Well, leave it to convicts to know the best way to tie people up," John drawls, falling back onto the tried and true façade of indifference. It's that or he's going to start screaming and cursing. He's pretty sure that reaction will not earn them any points with their jailers. 

"Eventually I will get free," Ronon growls, pulling against the bindings again. "And when I do, he's gonna pay for this."

John agrees with Ronon completely. Get free and then go on a fucking tear. First the collar comes off and then that dirtbag felon Torrell has some explaining to do. Except he knows that Cam will absolutely skin him if he puts himself in unnecessary danger. Sighing, he says, "Now listen to me. When you get free, you get us free and then we all get out of here. Let 'em find out we're gone, _after_ we're gone." 

The look on Ronon's face – an almost comical blend of anger and understanding – earns a sardonic chuckle out of John. "Seriously, Ronon. Escape and retreat."

"Is that an order, Sheppard?"

"I'm beat up, tied up and couldn't order a pizza right now if I wanted to," John huffs. "But if you need it to be an order, yeah… it's an order. Get us free so we can go home."

Smirking, Ronon rolls his shoulders and, flexing his arms, snaps the bindings. "Okay."

*

Between the escape-cum-rescue, the debrief and the following mandatory medical clearance, John pushes the collar – and all of the ridiculous _feelings_ it stirred up – out of his thoughts. His shoulders ache and his head is pounding and Cam's offer of a back rub sounds so perfectly relaxing that John strips off and throws himself on the bed.

"What the…" Cam murmurs, fingers trailing butterfly light over the back of John's neck. His voice is flinty when he growls, "The collar."

"Yeah," John replies. He clenches his muscles to stop the shudder that wants out. "They didn't even use them to attach us to the poles, or bind us with a chain to our arms. They were just there, buckled around our throats li…" John stops abruptly, choking back the _like they just belonged there_ at the last second.

Pressing a kiss against John's neck, Cam whispers, "It didn't mean anything." 

John would argue with Cam if he had the strength. It most certainly _did_ mean something. And not a bit of it was good. 

"They were trying to humiliate you. Like most of the population in Pegasus, they have no clue of the true meaning of a collar, of the value and importance of a submissive."

Cam's lips follow the red welt marking John's neck. 

"Cam," John moans. 

"Right here, darlin'." Cam sinks his teeth into the flesh covering John's spine, leaving a perfect ring of teeth on the back of John's neck. "He had no right."

Curling his fingers in the sheets, John fights against the tight set of his muscles. He needs to relax. To let go. To let Cam take care of him. 

It's not as easy as it should be.

"Trust me." Cam whispers the words into John's skin. "Come on, John. Give me that much."

"I do," John returns, squeezing his eyes against the lie of it. 

Except that he doesn't. Not now. Not when his body is aching from being bound and collared against his will. 

"I want to." Reassurance for them both. "I _want_ to."

"I know." Cam presses another kiss against John's neck. "And I'll be here when you do."

With the near tangible sincerity in Cam's words, the patience and understanding he's offering John, the tight bunch of emotions crowding John's stomach starts to unfurl. "Yeah, okay."

"It was a mindfuck, John. It was important only because you understand the promise behind a collar."

Cam licks a swath of tender skin and John trembles, not in disgust but in expectation. It's easy enough for John to imagine that Cam is reclaiming those marks, taking away all other authority and making them his with gentle nips of his teeth.

"And the next time someone buckles a collar around your throat, when _I_ tighten _my_ collar into place… that'll mean everything it's supposed to mean." 

"Christ." John rolls his hips, pushes his ass up and back, undulating slowly against Cam's groin. "Fuck me. Please."

"Yeah," Cam murmurs. "I can do that."

*

John's too relaxed, too fucked out to really pay attention to the argument flying around him. McKay and Caldwell are hot for the mission, Elizabeth and Cam are against it. He doesn't have a dog in this fight and he's happy enough to keep it that way.

The peaceful exclusion lasts all of five minutes.

"Major," Caldwell says, "your opinion?"

Swallowing a groan, John says, "McKay believes he knows what went wrong and can avoid the same outcome."

"John," Cam says, drawing John's attention away from Caldwell and onto him. "Do you trust McKay?"

It's a loaded question. Trust is such a huge issue between them. Closing his eyes, John forms his words carefully. His answer, when he gives it, has to make clear the divide between professional trust and personal trust. "With the projections? Yes." 

"It's more than projections. If McKay is wrong, you could die. Do you trust him with that? With your life?"

"In this circumstance?" John rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "Yeah. It's his life too and McKay isn't suicidal. Plus, numbers are his game. I trust that."

Cam licks his lips and nods. "Okay, then. If you keep a radio open the entire time so we can monitor from here, I'm on board with the mission."

"Just like that?" Elizabeth asks. "Colonel Mitchell, I don't understand. Project Arcturus was shut down by the Ancients for a reason, not to mention that we've already lost one man to this."

"John trusts McKay," Cam replies, his gaze stays steady on John. "And I trust John."

Caldwell slaps his hands together. "We have a go then."

*

John rolls the jumper to the left and curses. It'd be a damn shame to die on this mission. Especially after all of the bullshit that went into Rodney getting approval for it.

Eyes widening, Rodney points at the console and snaps, "The weapon's locking onto us."

"No shit." John pulls back, pushing the jumper into a steep rise. "How 'bout I fly us away from the planet and we just come back after the overload?"

McKay shakes his head. "We can't."

"Can't?" John chances a fast glance at Rodney. The pale face and tight line of Rodney's mouth make John's head hurt. He knows in his gut that there is no way this is going to turn out to be good. "Why not?"

"Don't you understand?" One of Rodney's hands flails in John's peripheral. This explosion is gonna take out at least three-quarters of the solar system."

" _That_ wasn't in your projections," John grumbles, angling the jumper between two pieces of debris. It's a tight fit but they come out on the other side unscathed. 

"There's no way we can fly far enough or fast enough. We _have_ to head for the 'gate."

"Dammit, Rodney." Dropping the jumper into a dive, John offers up a silent thanks to the Ancients for the inertial dampeners. "Dial the 'gate."

John drops the jumper down behind a piece of the broken hive ship, narrowly avoiding another burst of weapons fire.

"It's a good thing we stopped by to check on your progress, Major." Caldwell's voice echoes tinny over the comm link just as the Daedalus rises up from beneath the debris field, blocking the next round from the laser weapon. "Make a break for the Stargate, we'll run interference."

"Copy that, Daedalus," John replies, arching to the right and settling on a straight-line course with the 'gate. "Recommend you go into hyperspace as soon as we go through. There's gonna be a big bang."

Before Caldwell can reply, John pushes the jumper through the watery surface of the Stargate.

*

Two steps outside of the jumper, John has a face full of uniform as Cam crowds him against the nearest wall. John's complaint at being manhandled is cut off before it can start. He falls into the kiss, ignoring everything outside of Cam until he hears Elizabeth ripping into Rodney. Ears burning, he goes tense and pulls away. "Cam."

"We heard…" Cam stops and swallows. "Between the open radio and the reports from the Daedalus, we… _I_ heard almost all of it. Remind me to never request an open radio again."

John winces. "Bad?"

"Doesn't even cover it," Cam murmurs. "I thought… You're helluva good in a pilot's seat, John. That's the only explanation for escaping."

"It wasn't…"

"Don't argue with me." Cam wraps his hands around John's wrists and gently squeezes. "Even Caldwell was impressed with your skill today. Just say thank you and move on." 

"Um, thanks." John steps around Cam, easing away from the contact. It's too intimate for him, makes him want to curl into Cam's arms and take a deep breath. The jumper bay is too public a place for that. "I gotta… medical and then debrief."

"Yeah."

"Tonight?"

Cam quirks a grin. "Not waiting that long. Right after the debrief. You're grounded until we work out what happened out there."

Between dodging the stupid killer ray gun and Cam's very public welcome home, John's rattled enough he doesn't argue the grounding. He's not sure which one is freaking him out more.

*

"Football," John says, kicking his feet in the water. "We should teach the Athosians how to play and start a few pick-up games."

"Yeah," Cam says around a mouthful of pretzels. "I could get behind that."

Laughing, John shakes his head. "Thought you country boys had better manners than to talk with your mouth full."

"Fuck off, Sheppard," Cam retorts, swallowing and grinning.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Not since I was six." Cam wipes his hand on his pants and then rolls, pinning John's back against the pier. "Wanna keep talkin' shit, Major?"

John bucks against Cam's grip, smiling when it doesn't give an inch. "I dunno. What'll it get me?"

"A tanned rear end, if you don't watch out."

Arousal crashes over John. "Sir."

Cam arches a brow. "You ready for all that means?"

"Cam," John sighs. He feels like he should apologize but he's not sure exactly what for. "Look, I didn't mean to make everything so…"

"Hey, easy now." Cam leans in and brushes a chaste kiss over John's lips. "We're not working a time table, John."

Rolling to a stand, Cam holds out a hand. "Now, it's getting late and you have a mission tomorrow. Ready to head back in?"

"Mission?" John snorts. "It's a trip to a planet with an energy spike and no life signs. Not gonna be a problem."

"Really, John? Do I need to remind you how crappy your luck on recent missions has been?" Cam bumps John with his shoulder. "If I hadn't read the first year reports, I'd think I brought y'all nothing but bad luck."

"Nah, you can't take the credit for the madness." John looks over and smirks. "It's just business as usual in the Pegasus Galaxy." 

"You turned into a bug," Cam says. "Business as usual should never include morphing into a bug."

"That was actually pretty cool. Well," John frowns, "if you ignore the whole losing my mind and the uber aggressiveness parts. The being able to climb walls, though? Definitely cool."

"That's you all right. John Sheppard, Pegasus' version of Spider-Man."

John rolls his eyes. "You are such an ass."

Cam palms the lock on his door. "Come on, Spidey. Let's see what kinda web I can weave with some ropes."

Snorting a laugh, John says, "That was bad. Like, _really_ , bad."

"We'll see if you’re still saying that when I've got you tied face down and ass high, yeah?"

John swallows once and then hustles into the room, Cam's poor excuse at a joke forgotten in the face of some serious play time.

*

John stops waiting after three and one-half days. The extra supplies from Teyla's pack are almost gone and he knows he has to find water and food. "Alright, Sheppard," he says out loud. "Let's put those survival skills into practice."

He leaves clues as he goes. Some of them big enough for Rodney to follow – like an arrow made out of rocks – and others small enough that only Ronon and Teyla, possibly Cam and Lorne, could pick up on. 

Standing by a stream, his face and chest dripping wet, John cants his face towards the sun. It doesn't seem like a bad little planet. "Except," he corrects his thoughts aloud, "for the whole lost-alone-in-a-portal thing."

A roar echoes around him.

Grabbing his gun, he spins in a slow circle. "And the maybe-there're-dinosaurs thing."

Constantly scanning the horizon, John jerks his shirt back on and, backing away from the stream, heads for the tree line. It's easier to hide in a forest.

Marking his route, John moves on near silent feet through the dense woods. The animal – dinosaur, dammit – sounds off again in the distance. "Come on, McKay," John growls. "Where the hell are you all?"

John sighs, muscles relaxing a fraction, when he steps out of the woods and into another grassy meadow. "Clear lines of fire." He darts a glance right and then left. "That has to be a good thing."

Taking a deep breath, he walks out into the open and cuts a path diagonally across the field towards a distant stand of trees. The stillness of the planet is becoming oppressive.

It's too quiet. Like being caught in the eye of a hurricane. John knows, deep in his gut _knows_ , that there is more to come.

Looking to the sky, he says, "Be nice if you all showed up right about now with a jumper full of Marines." 

And Cam. He'd give a month's pay to see Cam right now.

"Help!" A man stumbles from the forest and shouts, "Help me, please!"

John jerks to a stop and scans the horizon. He sees nothing. "Wha…"

"The beast!"

On cue, the air is sliced with a deep rumble from the animal.

Dropping down into the high grass, John motions the man behind him. He aims his gun at the trees and mutters, "It'd help if I knew what the hell I was fighting."

The stranger shakes his head. "You can't fight it!"

John arches a brow and snorts. "Pretty sure I can fight it. At least, if I ever see it I can fight it." John flashes the guy a fast grin, hoping it'll calm him down some. 

He presses down on the trigger and releases a static burst of gun fire. Silence reigns in the aftermath of the _pop, pop, pop_ of the gun.

"Well, now," John drawls, pushing to a stand. "That seems to have…"

Another agitated grumble erupts just behind them. John spins to his left and sees… nothing. Then an outline of _something_ flickers into being and the air around John bends around the distortion. A second clicks off and the image is lost, the beast fading out of sight.

"What the hell?" Frowning, John fires a volley of bullets.

An ear-piercing scream fills the glen and the beast flashes into existence again. It's close to seven feet tall and covered in a tough looking blue-black hide with long, clawed fingers. John grimaces, ignoring the sliver of fear lancing across his back.

Aiming, John gets one round off before the beast reaches out and swipes John off of his feet. 

He rolls through the landing and comes up with his pistol in his hand, unloading the clip into the monster's back. 

It doesn't slow the beast down at all.

Pulling his knife out, John leaps onto the creature's back. The last thing he remembers is tumbling through the air and slamming into the ground.

*

Pushing his plate away, John stands and steps away from the table. "Um, Avrid, right?" 

"Yes, Avrid." He points to a little girl and says, "This is Hedda; she healed you. And this is my sister, Teer."

Giving them all a tight, forced smile and a nod, John says, "I'm grateful for the food and the healing and all, but, can you point me to the way out?"

Avrid looks at John, confusion etched into his features. "There is no way to leave, John, other than to ascend."

John blinks and then blinks again. He takes a deep breath and tempers back the urge to yell. "What exactly do you mean by there's no way?"

"The cloister was built for the sole purpose of preparing for ascension." Avrid waves a hand through the air. "We meditate in hopes of one day joining those who created the Sanctuary."

"Um, great. Thing is, I've got other plans." John walks away, not knowing where he's going but determined to find a way out of here. A way back to Atlantis. To his team. To Cam.

Avrid falls in step beside John. "If you have no desire to ascend, why did you enter the portal?"

"Call it a mistake," John replies. A huge mistake. A mistake that he will be taking up with Rodney. They have to find a way to make sure this never happens again. "I tried to stop it, but the damned thing sucked me in."

"Those that came before us made certain there could be no indecision." John follows Avrid's meandering route to the large stone reservoir marking the village's center. " Once you set foot within the Sanctuary, your path was chosen."

"Not by me!" John snaps. "I didn't _choose_ this."

He would have never chosen this. Not ever.

"I'm sorry, John, but once you crossed the threshold, you committed to be here for the remainder of your days."

John glares at Avrid until his smile falls and he backs away. Once he's alone, John drops his gaze to the reflective surface of the reservoir. The heavy scruff on his face marks the days he's been in the stuck in this throwback village. He almost doesn't recognize the person looking back at him.

"I'm not going to die here," John mumbles to himself. "No way."

*

"You will not let yourself be happy here," Teer says, a hint in disappointment in her voice. "You make it a struggle, fighting the ways of our people." 

"It's just… I've got responsibilities back home. There're people I care about, and who care about me." John frowns. At least he thought they cared about him. Three months and no word from them is making him question that. "And I'm not really fighting your ways, I go to meditation every day." 

Have breakfast, go meditate. Meet for lunch, go meditate. Eat supper, go hide from the beast in his little house. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It'd been almost like a vacation in the beginning. Peaceful for about the first two weeks. Since then it's been grating John's nerves. He misses the action, the nonstop _go_ that is his life on Atlantis. 

He misses Rodney's snarking and complaining on missions. Getting his ass handed to him by Teyla and Ronon in the sparring ring. And Cam… he just flat misses Cam. He tries to push those thoughts of away. It's starting to hurt when he thinks about Cam. About everything he's kept them from having. The way he, John, has kept their relationship locked in a box, with tight parameters and boundaries. His failure with Cam, the way he's held them both back, is all that he thinks about when he lets his mind wander during meditation.

He hates meditating with a passion. There's nothing to stop him from introspection.

However, he admits to himself, he might appreciate all of the self-awareness if – _when_ – he makes it back to Atlantis.

Shaking away the gloom, he looks at Teer and asks, "Why'd you come here?"

She twirls a flower between her fingers and shrugs. "Like most of us, I was born here."

"Your people, then. Why'd they come here?" It's important for John to understand. He can't imagine willingly coming to this supposed paradise. A place where the weather is perfect and the food is plentiful and the wraith don't come. 

A place where there is no actual living being done.

"They came generations ago." Teer slips the flower between the laces of John's tunic and, patting his chest, smiles. "I'm from a race of people who revered those who came before us, those who created this place."

John rolls his eyes. The entire galaxy seems to hold the Ancients in high regard. A race of people who ran back to Earth and left the people of Pegasus on their own with the wraith. "Yeah, heard about them. We call them Ancients."

"You do not like them?" 

John snorts. Given his ability to commune with Atlantis, he's practically one of them. He's definitely the closest there is to them now. "Can't dislike them. I don't know them. They're not exactly well-known where I come from."

*

John's bored. Mind-numbingly, dig his eyeballs out with a fork _bored_. He's made a vow to never leave Atlantis again without at least a handheld gaming system. And one of those solar battery chargers McKay uses for his data pads. Six months of _meditating_ is the road to madness.

"What are you thinking about, John?"

Blinking his eyes open, John smiles at Hedda. He likes the little girl, kind of feels sorry for her. She's too young to realize all that she's missing out on. "Have you ever seen a thunderstorm?"

"The Sanctuary provides rain for the orchards."

John fights the urge to stick his tongue out at Avrid. "Yeah, the Sanctuary is the perfect habitat for the orchards and the forests. But I'm talking about wind and thunder and lightning. Giant bolts of electricity streaking across the sky, the ground trembling with the boom and rumble of thunder."

"Sounds scary," Hedda says, scooting closer to John.

He focuses his attention on Hedda, her bright inquisitive eyes reminding him of the science team on the verge of a discovery. "Well, it is scary. But it's also very cool."

Hedda's eyes widen and a grin curls the edges of her lips. "Wow."

"Plus," John drops his voice to a near whisper, like he's sharing a secret, "it's okay to be scared. That's just part of life. When I was a kid, we used have storms that shook the house. Scared me half to death. But it was also exhilarating. Just like flying the first time."

Teer reaches over and, with a hand on Hedda's shoulder, pulls the girl away from John's side. "When we are ascended, we will experience such things."

"Hell, if you're ascended, you can make the thunderstorms!" John huffs a wry laugh. "I'm talking about actually _experiencing_ life."

Avrid draws back, as if John's words were a physical blow. "We contemplate on the experience that is life each day."

"I'm talking about _living_ it." Jerking his gaze between Avrid and Teer and back again, he asks, "Haven't you got things you wanna do as flesh and blood human beings first? I mean, you all talk about moving on to a plane of existence beyond your own mortality, but you haven't really lived." John drags a hand through his hair. "I've got a damn sight more experience with life than any of you all and I can tell you, what I've had isn't enough. _When_ I get out of here, because I _will_ get out of here, when I get out of here I've got a list of things to do and try and say."

As soon as the words are out, the full weight of them hits his shoulders. Cam. Almost everything on his list circles around Cam. Nothing he's pictured – not the surfing or the late-night conversations or the camping trips – nothing doesn't have Cam right there beside him.

It's no longer about his failure in his past but about the prospects in his future. He has to get out of here, has to break through that damned portal and go home. 

His opportunity for a full life is waiting for him on Atlantis. 

Hopefully.

"To ascend, one must meditate." 

John pushes his chair away from the table and stands up, disgusted with the entire conversation. More so even with himself for failing to get through to this group of people, people he considers friends. "You're not meditating. Not a single one of you. You're all hiding."

"Hiding from what?" The glare Avrid's giving John supports his mutinous tone.

Heading towards the path that leads away from the cloister, John shouts, "You already know the answer to that."

*

John stumbles through the forest, his anger bubbling out in fits and spurts, with bursts of private commentary – _stupid Ancients and their dumb ideas… people can't see what's right in front of them… don't even know what they're missing… what is taking McKay so damned long to fix this…_ – and the occasional fist against a tree trunk. So lost in his tirade, he jumps, startled, when the beast's roar ricochets around him. 

"Of course," he grumbles. "Of course you show up now." He slides his knife from his waistband and shrugs. "What the hell."

Loosing a primal scream, John runs into the clearing and jumps on the beast’s back. It immediately fades into nothingness and John drops to the ground with a hard _oomph_.

Eyes smarting with tears, he moans and rolls his head to the side when he hears a familiar, "John?"

"Elizabeth." Smiling – _grimacing_ – he says, "Good to see you, Madam. Really good. Who all did you bring with you?"

"Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney," Elizabeth replies, kneeling beside John and running a hand slowly over his chest. "Plus Carson and Major Lorne."

It takes everything in him to not ask why Cam didn't come. John figures something in his face gave him away when Elizabeth adds, "We didn't know what we'd find, John. Cameron was in no place mentally to be an asset to us. He's waiting for you on Atlantis."

"Yeah, okay," John mumbles. "I get it."

"I doubt you do," Elizabeth says, smiling. "Colonel Caldwell threatened to tie him to the railing if he tried to get on the jumper."

"Oh, okay then." John's lips quirk into a grin. "So, you're here to take me home, right? You know how to get out of here?"

Elizabeth pushes to a stand. "Rodney does, yes." 

John glares at Rodney as he rolls to his feet. "What the hell took you so long?"

"Believe it or not," Elizabeth says, drawing John's attention away from Rodney, "you've only been gone a couple of hours."

"More like six months, ma'am." John scratches his fingers through his beard. "This kind of facial hair doesn't happen in just a couple of hours."

"You've been trapped in a time dilation field," Rodney says. "On Atlantis it really has only been a couple of hours."

The creature roars in the distance. 

"What is that bloody thing?" Carson asks, moving closer to Elizabeth.

"Don't know, doc," John says. Then, looking a Rodney, "What's a time dilation field?"

Before Rodney can start an explanation, the beast roars again, closer than it was before.

"Can we talk about this somewhere else?" Elizabeth herds Carson towards the center of the group, stopping once they're protected on all sides.

"It's coming closer," Teyla says, eyes watching the forest.

The beast solidifies in the field, a few feet away from Ronon and John. It towers over them, standing almost seventy feet tall.

Gripping his knife, John steps forward. He smirks when Ronon, sword in his hands, falls in beside him.

"You've fought this thing before?"

John jerks his head in a nod. "Twice."

Ronon licks his lips and adjusts his grip on the sword. "How'd you beat it?"

"Still haven't figured that out," John replies. He follows the beast's movement with narrowed eyes, trying to anticipate the creature's next move.

"Now would be a time to figure that out."

"Yeah, well," John drawls, "what'd you say we just fight it and see what happens? Seemed to've worked out pretty good before."

"It ain't dead yet."

"Neither am I," John replies. "See? Works well for everyone."

"Um, John." Elizabeth trails a hand over John's shoulder. "Friends of yours?"

John glances over his shoulder quickly, then turns when he sees Teer and Avrid leading the entire village into the open. "Uh, hi."

"We've come to stand with you," Avrid says. "Whatever happens."

"No," Teer says, shooting Avrid a hard look. "We've come to fight."

The beast roars and, shimmering, grows larger. 

"We are not afraid of you," Teer shouts at the beast. "You are of our own creation and it is long past time we sent you away."

With a glance at Avrid, Teer motions to the villagers. Walking forward, they slowly encircle the beast.

The creature growls and rumbles. It raises it arms high into the air and screams, disappearing before the last high-pitched shriek fades away.

Teer steps away from the circle and turns to face John. "John."

"That's it?" John looks at the space where the beast had been, bewildered. "That's all it took?"

Hedda joins Teer in front of John. With a nod from Teer, she darts forward and gives John a fast hug before joining Avrid and the other villagers.

"You were right, John." Teer points to the people standing behind her. "We were afraid. The beast was our final burden, manifested from our own fears. You gave us the courage to face it."

Each of the villagers starts to glow with an inner light. John smiles when Hedda, surrounded in a near white light, waves to him and then rises toward the sky.

Holding out a hand, Teer says, "Come with us, John."

"Nah," John replies, shaking his head. "I've still got some living to do."

*

John is vibrating by the time Lorne shuts the jumper down and opens the hatch. Atlantis is a welcome sight, the returned weight of her company in his mind is comforting. But as much as he missed Atlantis, he's missed Cam more. Scanning the group of people, John's eyes finally light on Cam. 

"Major," Carson says, grabbing John's shoulder only to have his grip shaken off. "Come on, son. On the gurney with you. There're tests to be run." 

With a shake of his head, John sidesteps Carson's second attempt to corral him. He knows there is nothing wrong with him, that Hedda repaired month’s old weaknesses when she healed the damage from the beast. He also knows that even if he'd been bleeding from a gut shot, there's something more important he needs to do. 

Something he's been thinking about doing for _months_.

Stopping in front of Cam, John quirks a small grin and then, eyes lowering, he goes to his knees, sinking into a picture perfect display. 

John watches Cam's hands open and close, over and over and fucking _over_. Finally, hand balled into a white-knuckle fist, Cam rasps out, "John?"

"If it's still what you want…" John murmurs.

" _If_ it's still what I want?" Cam says, voice incredulous. "I should spank your ass for saying something so ridiculous."

John knows the wording probably sounded strange. That, according to Rodney, for everyone here he was only gone a matter of hours. For him, however, it's been months. Six long, agonizing months filled with meditation and self-reflection. He may not have been searching for ascension, but he damned sure learned a lot about himself anyway.

"Please," John whispers. "Say something."

"You're mine," Cam growls softly. He repeats himself, loud enough for everyone in the jumper bay to hear. "Mine."

John releases a breath as everything clicks into place and peace washes over him from the inside out.

Fingers twining in John's hair, Cam tugs gently until John rolls to a stand. He tightens his hold and pulls until John's head is tilted back and he's looking Cam in the eyes. "You're mine. _My_ John, _my_ boy. Everything that you are, that you will be is _mine_."

The kiss that follows Cam's declaration is exactly like the one after John escaped certain death on the Arcturus Project. Except it's not.

Because this time John doesn't care about the people around them. Doesn't care if they're seeing a soldier or a friend or a sub. His focus, his entire being, is centered on the man standing beside him. 

Breaking the kiss, Cam says, "You've been mine from the very first word. You just had to figure it out for yourself."

"Got that part covered," John replies, burrowing in closer to Cam. He'd missed this. Missed Cam's touch and his presence, the strength and promise that Cam radiates in his every move. 

Cam chuckles softly, this breath ghosting in fits and spurts over John's brow. "I guess that you do now."

John relaxes completely against Cam, trusting Cam to keep him from falling, emotionally as well as physically. There's nothing he doesn't trust Cam with. Canting his head, John whispers, "I trust you. I've trusted you for a while."

Cam's arms tighten around John, and, smiling, he presses a kiss against John's temple and murmurs, "Good to know, John."

Curling a hand around Cam's waist, John says, "So, about that collar…"

"You are incorrigible," Cam says, guiding John towards the waiting gurney. "That discussion can wait until after your visit to medical."

"I'm fine," John argues, wanting nothing more than to take Cam and retreat behind the locked door of Cam's rooms. "Really."

"Are you arguing with me, boy?"

The tone of Cam's voice – a deep, honey drawl of underlying tenderness wrapped in a hardline command – zings over John's skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. This is exactly what he'd spent six months thinking about. Offering Cam a shy smile, he says, "Not at all… _Sir_." 

The approval – along with the healthy dose of arousal – that flares in Cam's eyes banishes the last touch of the doubt that's been haunting John since he hit his knees in front of Cam. With a cocky grin, he says, "It's good to be home. That was the longest couple of hours of my life."

∴ _end_ ∴


End file.
